


Naurcalad

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Naurcalad" roughly translates to "firelight". </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On a cold winter night, the Lord Faramir and the Lady Éowyn, Prince and Princess of Ithilien, discuss the weather and exchange a few gifts, all while sitting in the firelight.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naurcalad

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

A man sat staring at the fire, snow settling on his dark hair. The fire cast a watery light onto the surrounding tents and horses. A gentle wind stirred and brought to him the sound of light footsteps. He turned, right as the woman sat down. The fire's flickering glow turned her hair to gold, and reflected in the blue eyes as she turned to face him. The soft light played on her face, outlining every curve and hollow.

"I brought you a drink, Faramir," she said softly, pressing a hot mug into his hands.

"Thank you, Éowyn, dear," his reply was whispered and he brought the cup up to his mouth, taking a deep drink of the smooth, chocolatey drink. She sipped hers and leaned her head on his shoulder. He tensed, then leaned his head against his intended's.

"Faramir?"

"Yes, Éowyn?"

"It's cold."

He chuckled, grey eyes crinkling with laughter.

"It is winter, love."

She giggled. "I know that! It's just really cold!"

Faramir put his arm around her and drew her closer. They sat in silence for a little while, Éowyn drifting off into sleep. She was jolted awake when Faramir moved and put something on her head.

"What is this?" Her voice was curious. She reached up to touch it and felt the unmistakable glossy feel and pointed edges of a holly leaf.

"The holly bears the crown, meleth."

Éowyn looked up at him and took in the firelight dancing in his silver eyes.

"Well, it is not fair that you gift me when I have nothing to give back to you, be you Steward of Gondor or not! You are just lucky, Faramir, that I made you something as well," she said.

"And what would that be?" he asked, smiling.

She handed him a small spoken token in the shape of a horseshoe.

"For luck," she whispered.

They sat in silence, each enjoying the others company, before the dying fire prompted them to return to their respective tents.


End file.
